


Exhausting thoughts

by Clouds_In_The_Sky



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Insomnia, i think, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29327937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clouds_In_The_Sky/pseuds/Clouds_In_The_Sky
Summary: What was he? Exodus started to think.A person, he answered. But he knew he was something more than a person. Alphonse always told him that.What kind of person?A... man?A man.But was he really one?





	Exhausting thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a vent fic, as you can see from the tags. I'm still deciding if Exodus should stay as a trans man, or as a trans-non-binary person (he/they pronouns). Also, yes, I made Exodus trans now. My feelings are pretty much exaggerated here to fit Exodus's situation, but nonetheless, our feelings are similar.
> 
> Also please do note the tags. If gender dysphoria triggers you, please leave.

He laid awake under the ceiling, in the dark room where the moon was high in the sky outside. 

_What was he?_ Exodus started to think.

 _A person,_ he answered _._ But he knew he was something more than a person. Alphonse always told him that.

_What kind of person?_

_A... man?_

_A man._

But was he really one?

Alphonse would tell him, ' _yes, yes you are! You're no less of a man than me._ ' every time.

But sometimes, he thought that this may just be a phase, a temporary feeling, something he might regret later, something, just a thing.

He tried to tell himself, ' _no, I'm a man, a boy,_ ' every time he looked at the mirror, where his pale body is reflected upon it, where he could trace the bones outlining it. 

The image burns directly through his brain, like a spreading virus. If he were a man, he'd cut his hair shorter, he'd have broader shoulders, he'd be taller, and he'd have muscles. A man doesn't have hair reaching below his chin, a man doesn't have shoulders small and soft, a man doesn't need to wear shoes boosting their height, a man isn't skinny. 

Exodus has none of those manly traits. He only has his worn-out binder and over-sized clothes to hide his bony, _feminine_ body. A real man would never need them. A real man wasn't _that thing in the mirror_.

And he accepted it, a years ago, back when the nuns and priests slapped him for wearing _masculine_ clothes. They used to tell him ' _you're a girl, not a boy!_ ' or ' _you have a vagina, not a penis!_ ', and their excuse for them was that ' _God's purpose for you is to marry a man, bare his babies, and carry out His word._ '

He'd never be a man, no matter how long or how much he had to consume testosterone pills. Even if he will pay for the expensive top surgery, he'd never be one.

_Was this worth the effort?_

He didn't answer. He didn't know the answer anyway, _so what was the point_.

He could care less about anything, so why was he so bothered?

He just wanted to feel like a man and be as similar as them. It brought him his happiness, but it was too hard. He'd get a few stares if he went to the men's clothing section and even the men's bathroom, he'd have to worry if he looked passing, and he'd have to explain to strangers every time they questioned. When he gets his menstruation, he'd cry for hours, and never get anything finished in time.

_Because real men never get that._

Sometimes, when he's moody, he'd hate the presence of Alphonse, even if he loved him for all these years. Alphonse was the epitome of what Exodus wanted. Alphonse had hair above his nape, wide and broad shoulders, tallness, and muscles. He was too _perfect_. And Exodus hated him for that.

As the hours passed by with vile thoughts in his head, he could feel the weight of his eyelids. It was time to sleep. With sleep, all his thoughts about what he is stopped. As he closed his eyes, he dreamt of an alternate time wherein he was born as a man, happier and prouder of himself. 

Tomorrow, he would wake up and have the thoughts fill his head once again, and the cycle would continue.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I managed to write this in more than an hour. A new record. Also, Grammarly tries to correct "dark room" as "darkroom".
> 
> I might orphan this work sooner or later.


End file.
